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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25962133">The Hunger Effect</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/HoodEx/pseuds/HoodEx'>HoodEx</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Batman - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Fluff, Gen, Sick Damian Wayne</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 09:06:44</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,330</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25962133</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/HoodEx/pseuds/HoodEx</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>When Damian gets sick and needs more cough medicine, it's up to Tim to get it for him. Bruce is there along for the ride, trying to act like he understands Tim's teenage nonsense.</p><p>Tim placed the severed hand on top of Bruce’s shoulder. “Look, it’s comforting you.”</p><p>“Hn.”</p><p>“Don’t you feel comforted, B?”</p><p>“By gelatin and artificial dyes?” Bruce asked with a raised brow. “No.”</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Tim Drake &amp; Bruce Wayne</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>168</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>The Hunger Effect</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This was written for the prompt: “Oh my god, that’s a severed hand.”</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    
<p></p><div class="">
  <p>Tim gripped the edge of his mask and carefully peeled it off his skin. He blinked away the tightness lingering around his eyes from the dried glue and threw the mask down by his feet where his tunic, gloves, and pants were clumped together. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He always felt a little ridiculous whenever he had to change out of his costume in the car. Mostly because he kneed himself in the face an ungodly amount of times while taking his pants off. Bruce had it even worse with the Batman suit, hence why they tried to avoid mobile wardrobe changes as much as possible. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Tonight’s impromptu wardrobe change was all thanks to Damian. The kid had been spewing his demon germs all over the manor since yesterday, and he’d polished off the last of his cough syrup around dinner. Since Alfred was busy making sure Damian didn’t die of his nasty sickness, Tim was the one who had to go fetch Damian some medicine from Walgreens.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>The problem was that they weren’t carrying any cash, and obviously, Batman couldn’t be seen using Bruce Wayne’s credit card. Since Tim had the easier costume to get out of, Bruce decided Tim would be the one to go in and buy the medicine.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Tim was in the middle of putting on a white shirt when he heard a sharp gurgle that overpowered the rmm-rmm-rmm of the batmobile’s engine. He placed his hand on his noisy stomach and rubbed gentle circles over the freshly bruised skin.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Can we stop at a Batburger? Peter’s hungry.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Bruce, who was bobbing his head along to “Paint It Black,” paused. His cowl was off, and Tim blatantly stared at Bruce’s disheveled hair and bloodshot eyes. The dark bags he was sporting didn’t help the fact that he looked like a raccoon heading to an AA meeting.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Bruce blinked once, twice, and then sighed deeply through his nose. “Who’s Peter?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“My stomach,” Tim said. “You didn’t hear him talking just now?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Hnn.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“You and Peter would probably get along since you both speak in monosyllables.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>The crease between Bruce’s brow made an appearance. “Why are you personifying your stomach?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Tim kicked his feet up on the dash. He’d have to clean off his muddy shoe prints before Alfred noticed. “Because I’m not me when I’m hungry.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Judging by the deep frown on Bruce’s face, it was likely he’d never seen a Snickers commercial before. What a waste of a joke. Tim would have to save that one for the next time he went on patrol with Dick.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Grab a snack while you’re in there,” Bruce said. He pulled the batmobile over into an isolated area that was a block away from the Walgreens.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Sweet. You want anything?” Tim asked.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“No.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Tim hopped out of the car. “Suit yourself. I’ll be back in twenty.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He shut the door and then sprinted down the uneven cracks of the sidewalk, praying he wouldn’t catch his foot in a pothole and go flying. The lack of light certainly didn’t help with that problem. Seriously, did all the street lamps on this block spontaneously bust or what?</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>By some miracle, he made it to the store unscathed. He walked through the automatic doors, squinting his eyes to protect them from the bright fluorescent lights.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>The lady at the register was a middle-aged brunette who looked like she was about to fall asleep on her feet. She regarded Tim with a quick look and threw out a greeting in a tone that didn’t match her expression whatsoever. Tim gave his fellow graveyard shift worker a nod and then made a beeline for the medicine section.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>It took him way longer than it should have to meticulously scan each shelf to find the cough syrup, and when he did find the cough syrup, he had a crisis over which flavor to get. They had strawberry, cherry, and grape. What the hell would Damian like the most? All he knew was that Damian was a vegetarian. He didn’t know shit about what kind of fruit the kid liked, and he’d never really seen Damian eat a lot of candy either.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>The more Tim stared at the bottles, the more he was aware that Bruce was waiting for him in the car. His hand twitched anxiously between each option until he decided he’d just choose the old fashioned way.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Eeny, meeny, miny, moe. Catch a tiger by the toe. If he hollers, let him go. My mother told me to pick the very best one and you are it!”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>His finger landed on the grape flavor. Tim shrugged at the result and snatched it off the shelf. If Damian didn’t like it, he could just suck it up and pinch his nose while he swallowed it.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>With that out of the way, Tim headed to the candy aisle. Even though a bag of chips would have probably been more filling, he wasn’t in the mood for something super salty. He figured he might as well indulge his sweet tooth a little since Alfred would probably have some kind of leftover nutritious sandwiches that he could eat at home.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>The candy aisle was full of both regular candy and Halloween themed candy, even though Halloween was still two months away. Tim thought he wanted something chocolatey like a Kit Kat until he saw a bunch of Halloween gummies.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>While he was deciding between the two, his stomach growled. Tim frowned and rubbed soothing circles over it.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Hush, Peter. Your father works long, grueling hours, and he’s trying his best to decide what candy is best for you.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Peter gurgled again as if in protest. Tim ignored it and debated playing the eeny, meeny, miny, moe game again to choose. <em>Fuck it </em>he thought and swiped the Halloween gummy mystery pack. He could get Kit Kats any day of the week, but Halloween gummies were seasonal. Might as well take advantage of it now. He probably wouldn’t make it out to a store during October since it was always crazier than usual that month.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Decision made, he went to the front and got checked out by the same lethargic looking worker he’d greeted earlier. With the goodies secured in the plastic bag that was clutched in his grip, Tim took off into the night back to where the batmobile was hiding.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Bruce must have seen him coming because the door opened up for him as soon as he was close enough. Tim climbed in, noting that Bruce was now tapping his hands against the wheel to the beat of some Hindi song.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Did they have it?” Bruce asked. He waited for Tim to buckle himself in before driving off.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Yup!” Tim said while digging through the bag. He pulled out his candy and waved it in Bruce’s peripheral. “Annnd I got these bad boys. You want one?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Bruce glanced at the bag and scrunched his nose. “What are they?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Let’s see here,” Tim said. He ripped open the bag and worked on opening one of the individually wrapped pieces of candy. “It’s a…” he paused, staring at the white and red piece of candy that came out of the wrapper. “Oh my god.” He held it out in front of his face and smacked on the overhead light to get a better look at it. “It’s a severed hand!”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Tim placed the severed hand on top of Bruce’s shoulder. “Look, it’s comforting you.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Hn.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Don’t you feel comforted, B?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“By gelatin and artificial dyes?” Bruce asked with a raised brow. “No.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Tim grabbed the gummy off its perch and plopped it in his mouth. “Peter finds it comforting.” The taste of the gummy didn’t hit until Tim bit into it. “Oh, gross!” he said while forcing the bland gummy down his throat with a grimace.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“You know,” Bruce said, a rare grin on his face, “I don’t think he does.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Even though Tim’s mouth tasted like rubbery ass now, he grinned back.</p>
</div>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Maaan I never know if my Bruce is all that good lmao. I try. Hopefully, that was fun for you to read!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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